filthy beach

filthy beach

MM and I went to Matador Beach a few weeks ago.  We got an early start and it was a beautiful day.  We laid out our blanket and shifted some of the seaweed away that had washed ashore. Tossed in with the seaweed, was some non-descript plastic, most notably a tampon applicator.

My head is crowded with so many thoughts — fanciful, depressing, idyllic, hopeful, honest, stupid, thoughts. They attack my peace relentlessly like a twitter feed, skipping from one topic to the next. There are only a few places I can go to turn off this incessant fodder . . . and one of my favorite places to go is the beach. Once I close my eyes and focus on the rhythm of the waves, my mind, if only for a moment, is still. I don’t think about ANYTHING.

So that day at Matador, I settled onto the blanket letting my weight sink into the sand. I closed my eyes. I listened as the waves started to pick up momentum. The noisy thoughts quieted and there was blankness. Until, something began to materialize. It was an unrecognizable shape, but as it came closer it was unmistakable. It was a tampon expertly coasting the waves on a surfboard. “Fuck youuuu!,” she cried.

credits: juicy couture bikini top, seafolly goddess eva skirted bottom, wildfox couture inside out cassidy tank, kenzo aviators

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